Etruscan Philosophy
by Gariand
Summary: When the threat of old age and boredom starts weighing on the minds of our four favourite nine year olds, they must take matters into their own hands.
1. Chapter 1

**Etruscan Philosophy**

* * *

"You guys! You guys!"

Cartman puffed and panted as he hauled his bulk to the ever so familiar meeting place, the bus stop. Nobody knew exactly why, but whenever somebody had something important to spill, there was always at least one person there to hear it. Still, this was South Park, where visitors and immigrants from the future was normal; the simple fact that there was always someone at the bus stop when needed was the least of the Podunk mountain town's problems. As it happened, on that particular day, all three of the fat boy's friends were stood there. Although, there was one who the boy may not have considered a "friend".

"What do you want, fatass?"

"Up yours, Jew!"

Stan sighed and clutched the bridge of his nose. Why oh why did every meeting have to begin like this? It had happened nearly every single day for the past eight years, ever since Cartman had learned to say "Jew!" You'd think that over that course of time they would just learn to get along. No such luck.

"Just get to the point!"

Cartman grabbed his thighs, still breathing heavily for the tiring amount of running he just did.

"Okay, okay," he said between pants. "There was this thing… on TV… and this…" he started chuckling moronically, "it was so funny…"

"Cartman!"

"I'm getting there ai-edy! Christ, give a guy time to tell the story…"

Kyle shook his head slightly. "Don't tell me it's the story with the girl who had a glass tube stuck up her ass again…"

Cartman promptly flipped him off, before carrying on with his seemingly important news. "So right, this guy, he was on TV… and he…and he…" he was shaking with silent laughter. "This guy… he was dying…"

"CARTMAN!" Kyle promptly gave him a sharp punch. "Dude! That is not cool!"

"Kahl! Jesus Christ!"

Stan stepped in quickly; he had a headache, and the last thing he needed right now was a bitchfest between the two. "Cartman just get to the point or shut up."

Still glaring at Kyle and rubbing his bruised arm, Cartman took his mind back to the dying man. Even though he had just been scolded for it, he still couldn't help letting out a small snigger.

"Okay… okay… seriously, you guys… this guy… dying…" He stifled his giggles, under the wary watches of Stan and Kyle. "And he had this list… right? It was a list of all the things he wanted to do before he died," he finished, managing to keep from laughing due to the lack of what he considered as 'funny material'. "He never got to do them." He waited for a response. "And then he got too old and sick to actually do the things he wanted to do." Another pause. "Ever."

Stan, Kyle and Kenny each raised an eyebrow.

"So?"

"So? So? Don't you guys care? We could die at any time, and miss out on so many opportunities!"

Stan and Kyle glanced at each other. Cartman was getting deep, and passionate, and usually when he started acting in this way, it wasn't a good sign. Kenny on the other hand, just laughed.

"Phmmm, mmmph mpph mppph phmm."

Stan nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Kenny doesn't have that problem."

"Shut up, you guys! Are you seriouslah saying that even Kinny here ain't gonna die someday either?"

Cartman flashed his evil grin, and even Kenny started to shake and doubt within the folds of his parka. Cartman did have a point; even if he could keep coming back now… well, there was no telling when he wouldn't.

"Mppph mpphmm pphmmmm."

Cartman nodded triumphantly. "Of course I'm right. Now…" he turned to face the still cynical faces of his other 'friends'. "…are you too in as well?" He held out his hand, expecting a shake.

Kyle merely brushed the fat, gloved hand aside. "I don't trust you on this fatass. I don't know what you're planning, or why, but I'm not agreeing to anything until I've talked to my dad about this."

"Pansy," Cartman muttered. "You're in though, right Stan?"

"Dude, I'm with Kyle on this one. I really really don't trust you when it comes to anything."

Both the blue and the green hatted boys turned on their heel, leaving Cartman with his mouth wide open.

"That's fahn! That's fahn! Just go off and leave me and Kinny! We'll be doing kewl stuff while you guys just go an' be fags! You're so faggy, that… that you make this whole town faggy, y'know? It's like… like livin' in some Brokeback … mountain town with you gaying it all up with your… your gayness. You buncha gay… gaywads!"

"Mpppph mpph phmmm phm."

"Yes, I do know that there's more than one word for gay, Kinny! I was just… emphasising… their gayness… cause they're so gay."

Kenny merely rolled his eyes.

* * *

Gerald Broflovski was not having a good day.

Actually, that was an understatement. It was a terrible day. Not only had he lost two of the cases he was working on, and as if that wasn't bad enough, the lawyer on the other side of one had been some whiny little shit that had brought up the Chewbacca defence of all things right in the closing argument. Gerald had felt cheerful only hours ago, confident that the jury would sway in his favour. And then it happened.

"_This does not make sense! Why would Chewbacca, a wookie…"_

His heart had sunk. He had no idea how this defence exactly held up in a court of law nowadays, but it was a powerful thing nonetheless. Gerald could practically see the possibility of success slipping through his fingers.

So like any other middle-aged man with troubles, he had turned to alcohol. No doubt he would get an earful from his wife later, but Gerald was banking on the fact that he would be too drunk to actually care.

"Dad? Dad?"

Gerald looked up from his stupor, and could distinctly make out a green and orange blur. _Kyle, _he thought sluggishly, before shifting his eyes to the brown and blue blur to the immediate right. _Stan._

"Whaaa… What is..it?"

This was not a good time to answer any questions; his eyes were bleary, his throat tasted of nothing but sour beer and he could swear he was going to throw up at any moment.

"Dad? Can I ask you something?"

Dammit, wasn't he just going to get to it? Gerald wanted nothing more than to just simply die, right there and then on the kitchen table. Still, the sooner he answered his son's question, the quicker he could get on with it.

"Hic! Go on…"

"Well, Dad… the fatass has got some weird idea in his head that we should… 'not miss out on opportunities before we die'." Kyle looked at Stan for confirmation. "Yeah, well, anyway… we don't know exactly what he means by it, but Cartman feeling strongly about anything isn't usually that good and we thought…"

"Y'know, boys?" Gerald slurred. "Your fat lil' frien'… is righ'." He lurched slightly in his chair before carrying on. "Look a' me boys… whadda ya see?"

Kyle wasn't sure how to answer this question. "Ummm… Dad, I think you're drunk."

"Quiet, Kyle. I know 'm drunk. Point is, I'm stuck in this redneck town, in a goddamn boring job…an' what have I done with my life other'n that?"

"Married mom, had me, had Ike?"

But it seemed Gerald wasn't listening. "I done nothin'! I ain't never got a tattoo! I ain't never been abseiling! I ain't never done anything fun! I ain't never lived!"

He looked down with half-focused eyes at the still confused boys.

"Believe me, Kyle, if you don't do as much as you can before you can't do it anymore… wheth'r it's death, or ol' age or summat! Make sure you make the most of life! Make sure you don't end up a failure like your old man!" And with that, he slumped onto the table, snoring loudly.

"Dude, weak," Stan said after a long pause. Kyle on the other hand, had other matters on his mind.

"Cartman was right." He turned to face Stan, who also had a face laced with a similar expression. "Dude, if we don't live life to the full, and make the most of every minute, we're going to end up drunk and depressed."

Stan nodded. Admittedly, if he had gone back to his house and found his dad like this, it would have been normal, but Kyle's dad?

"Shit, dude!" Stan clutched at his hat, a sure sign that he was getting agitated. "I think I get it now! Our dads… they've all… descended into some kind of… state where they just get drunk all the time but don't have any fun doing so!"

Kyle began to look more worried by the minute. "I heard that alcohol is supposed to make things more fun, but…" he waved vaguely at his father's sleeping form, "… our dads don't get any fun out of it. Maybe that's what he meant!"

Stan tapped his nose, thinking hard. "Ok, so let's see what we have here; we've got to take every opportunity, we've got to do everything we can before we die or turn into our dads."

"Right," Kyle nodded forcefully. "Where do we start?"

Stan sighed. "As much as I hate to say it, we've gotta find Cartman."

"Shit, I had a feeling that was coming."

* * *

The triumphant grin on Cartman's face couldn't have been any more noticeable as he opened the door to the dejected looks on Stan and Kyle's faces.

"Weeeell, weeeell, weeell," he drawled, "What brings you two crawling back?"

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Cartman, you were right. Now please, we need your help to stop us turning into our fathers."

Cartman laughed, and held his hand cupped by his ear. "What was that, Stan? Say it again."

"You were right."

"Now make the Jew say it."

"Fuck you, Cartman!"

Cartman wagged his finger; he was obviously enjoying this moment. "Now, now, Kahl. Temper, temper…" Kyle ground his teeth, but did not rise to the fatass's patronising comments. "Say it, and I do all I can to make sure we live our lives to the full."

"You were right, Fa… I mean, Cartman." Kyle felt humiliated saying it, but he was forced to concede that the currently snickering fat boy knew more about this than he did, and if his father had confirmed what had been said, then there must be something behind Cartman's plan, right?

After his giggling, Cartman placed his flabby arms around Stan and Kyle's shoulders, leading them into his house. "Well guys, welcome to living!"

* * *

**Ok, this was based on a challenge posted in the "Challenges" forum, where it was basically to see the boys try and live life to the full. The actual challenge posted by Call Me Blue Streak goes something like this:**

"_**One of the dads goes through their mid-life crisis and warns the boys of old age and how quickly it comes upon you. The children take this too seriously and go on a 'live life to the fullest' spree that involves dangerous stunts, disobeying their parents and spending so much money."**_

**Gahh! Forgive me! I know I didn't have it exactly right in this chapter, but I did it for a good reason!**

**And I know, you must be looking at the title and thinking "WTF!" but it will be explained in the next chapter.**

**And I have to say, as a writer of mainly romance, this is a nice new experience for me. I'm out of my comfort zone here, and here's hoping that I make a reasonable job of it.**

**Anyway, too much A/N already, so thanks for reading!**

**Gari.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Etruscan Philosophy**

Stan and Kyle were led forcefully up the stairs, and saw immediately that Cartman had stuck a piece of paper reading "LIvE LiFE OffICe" over his bedroom door. Inside, Kenny was currently clicking like a maniac on Cartman's computer.

The fatass in question let go of his vice-like grip on the friends, running forward to check the papers that were flowing freely from his printer.

"Yessss, yessss!" He mumbled as he read through them. "This is perfect!"

"Uh, Cartman? What're you doing?"

Cartman looked up from his hunched position to the confused faces that were still occupying the doorway. He made a point of rolling his eyes and sighing melodramatically.

"Well, some of us take living life to the full seriously, and me and Kinny here were merely doing our research."

"Since when have you done research, fatass?"

"I told ya, Jew! This is something that I truly care about! This is something I take seriously! This is something that got to me right hnyah!" He put his hand over his heart for effect. "I will be damned if I get too old or too dead to do something I wanna do! But if your cold, Jewish heart can't understand it, then get out."

Stan and Kyle looked at each other uncertainly; did Cartman just make an impassioned speech? His finger was poised at the door, and only when he didn't get an answer did he swing it round to the computer.

"If you are going to stay and take this seriously, with seriously people like me and Kinny, then make yourselves useful and help with the research."

The two friends obeyed, and carefully placed themselves each side of Kenny's seat, who was typing things into search engines as fast as he could. As difficult as it was to understand why the perpetually work-shy fat boy was pouring his heart and soul into something, they knew one thing; Cartman always does all he can to get what he wants. And this had obviously warned him that he should get it all while he could. There was no other explanation for it; the last time they had seen him this focused it had resulted in "Mr and Mrs Tenorman Chilli". Sometimes, it was better to go along with the fatass's plan than oppose him, and besides, it looked as if it could benefit them as well.

"Oh hey, there's something good," said Stan, his eyes on the screen. "Every day is my last."

"Mphhh mphhh phahahaha."

"Yeah, that should be like, Kenny's motto or something."

"Mpph mphhh mph."

"Oh yeah, that looks cool."

Cartman quickly shoved a piece of paper under their noses. "Read this, you guys."

"Take my advice, and my road, with me as your guide,  
All earthly creatures, after all, have drawn as their lot  
A mortal life: There is no escape from death  
For large or small. Therefore, while you still can,  
Enjoy a happy career, my good man, live well;  
Live mindful of how short life really is."

"Wow," said Stan. "That's really deep."

Kyle nodded. "That's uber deep."

"Mphhh Phhhhmm Phmm."

"Did you write it?"

"No!" Cartman scoffed. "I wouldn't write something as gay as that, Jesus Christ! I could imagine Stanley EmoFag here writing it, but me…"

"Shut up, Cartman!"

"But seriously, you guys. This guy who did write it, he was interested in the philosophy of the…" He struggled over the pronunciation "… et-roos-cans. On screen, Kinny!"

The parka-clad boy quickly tapped in the name of the ancient civilisation, and before too long the history, the beliefs and the religious practices were visible on a multitude of pop-up windows. For a while there was just silence in the fat boy's bedroom, as four pairs of eyes swept across the screen, and their mouths slowly opened wider with shock.

"Shit."

"Holy Shit."

"Holy fucking shit with balls on."

* * *

"Okay, Kenny! Is it tight enough?"

Kenny didn't know how he had got himself into this. He was currently being strapped to a hang-glider by his three friends as he stood atop a cliff looking down at the town of South Park. Why he agreed to it, he had no idea. He got killed often enough purely accidentally, and this? This was almost as bad as deep-sea diving in a shark-infested area with a practically empty oxygen tank, while carrying a toaster. Almost.

"_Silence, silence everyone." Cartman rapped his knuckles on the table, a highly unnecessary gesture as no one was actually talking. Still, Cartman loved the feeling of acting out an authoritarian figure. Grouped around the table were the other three people he spent most of his days with, all looking thoroughly bored with Cartman's theatrics, and wishing that he'd get the hell on with it._

"_Right, Kahl. If you could read out the main points on your sheet of paper."_

_Kyle sighed in a bored manner, but regardless picked up his paper. "The Etruscans believed that death is inevitable, that death is already foretold when it will happen and that life should be lived to the fullest both now and in the afterlife."_

"_Very nice, Kahl. Now Stan…"_

_Stan too, was getting tired of the fatass's idiotic meetings and discussing of this topic. Surely if life is to be lived to the fullest then they should be out living it and not discussing it? But, like Kyle, he complied and read out what was printed on his paper, figuring that as soon as they got this done, then they could work on living without regrets._

"_And so, to live life the Etruscan way, I, Eric Cartman have provided us all with lists of things that the internet recommends that everyone should do before they die." Stan looked up. "Really, Cartman? Wow, you are serious about this."_

"_Did you ever doubt me?"_

"_Mphh."_

"_Shut up, Kinny." _

Of course, hang-gliding had to be the first thing on Cartman's stupid list, and Kenny had to show his enthusiasm for this whole thing (he was adamant that he would not turn into his father). He regretted this now, as the maker of said list was attempting to crush his ribs with the straps that attached to the hang-glider.

"Mpph mppph phmmm!"

"It's not too tight, Kinny! This is gonna save your life, you ungrateful piece of crap!"

Kyle stood by, reading the manual that had come with it. He had no idea where or how Cartman had managed to obtain a hang-glider, but if it meant that they could 'live life to the fullest', he decided not to question it.

"Ok, so when you do your run-up, Kenny, don't dip the nose or lift it up too high… and run faster than eight miles an hour."

"How fast is eight miles an hour?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know?"

Stan shrugged and turned back to Kenny, who was finally completely secure in the hang-gliding kit. "Just run as fast as you can."

"Mppphmmppph mhppphhh!"

"Of course it's safe," interjected Cartman. "Now, come on! Hurry up!"

"Mppphhhhh Mphhh Phhmmm!"

"You're not going to die, dude," said Stan reassuringly. "Just have your turn so we can start 'living' too."

Kenny stiffened his resolve, trying to remember certain times when he had been in worse situations and still managed to pull through. _The shark tank and the rickety ladder,_ he repeated to himself, before running full pelt at the edge of the cliff.

He felt his feet no longer running on ground, but circling in air, and an updraft caught the glider, making it swoop majestically in the skies.

_God damn, _thought Kenny. _Could this actually go my way for once?_

Unfortunately, God was feeling in a mean mood, and as punishment for his involuntary taking-the-Lord's-name-in-vain, a sudden gust of wind toppled the glider in the air, and Kenny soon found himself spinning uncontrollably. He wrestled with the straps, trying to get free, but of course, Cartman had made that impossible.

_I'm going to kill him when I come back._

There was nothing he could do. And with a muffled profanity and a sickening crunch, a mixture of flesh, metal and orange parka decorated a clearing in the forest below.

"Oh my God, they killed Kenny!"

"You Bastards!"

"Well, there goes our turn…"

* * *

**What is this? A second update the next day? What is the world coming to?**

**Hopefully, with another exam out the way tomorrow, and only one left after that (hooray!) I can finally get back on track with my unfinished fics, as well as starting new ones. Meanwhile, I actually have the ending planned out for this, and I'm having a ton of fun with it, so I'm just updating wherever possible.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Gari**


	3. Chapter 3

**Etruscan Philosophy**

Sharon Marsh collected up the fallen clothes on her son's bedroom floor. She tutted to herself; hadn't she told him time and time again to put them in the basket?

With that thought in mind, she turned quickly to the clock, wondering when Stan would arrive home. It was already starting to get dark, and she wasn't overly keen on the idea of a nine year old boy out on his own in the dark.

A voice inside reminded her that he wouldn't be alone though; after all he was inseparable from his friend Kyle. She laughed to herself slightly; if there was any hint that either of the boys were in trouble, no doubt she would have the heavily accented voice of Sheila Broflovski on the other end of the phone.

Upon that notion, she allowed her worries to relax once more. There had as yet been no phone call, and so nothing to worry about.

It was this false sense of security that allowed her to miss one inconsistency with Stan's room; his piggy bank, which he usually kept above his bed in pride of place, was missing.

* * *

"Ooookay, so let's see, we have our list."

"Check."

"Bikes."

"Check."

It seemed that Cartman had decided 'for the best', that the ideal place for 'living' would be anywhere but South Park. After all, how could they possibly have limitless fun with their parents on their backs 24/7? After the failed attempt at hang-gliding and fearing for the worst what would happen if Kenny's remains and their plan were to be discovered, Stan and Kyle had agreed with Cartman that the best possible plan would be to get free from the hick town and watchful eyes of family and friends.

Luckily for them as well, they had no longer had worries about anybody finding the splattered Kenny in the forest; he had ambled back up to them as they were collecting together their bikes, apologising profusely for destroying the hang-glider. It was an unexplainable but well-known fact that any lingering limbs or scraps of flesh automatically disappeared when Kenny returned, and so they could breathe a sigh of relief in that regard.

"Money."

Stan and Kyle each brought out their saved cash, while the newly resurrected Kenny shuffled his feet and grunted slightly.

"Well, we have some," mumbled Stan.

Cartman sighed heavily. Was he really going to have to do everything himself? "Look guys, as much as I appreciate the donations to our noble cause, how are we supposed to be rebellious and live life fully on… what? Fifty bucks at most?"

Kyle felt he had to intervene. "Hey, fatass, Fifty bucks is a lot of money! Besides, where else are we going to get money? Steal it off our parents?"

"One, fifty bucks only seems a lot to a Jew because… well… you're a Jew. But to normal people, we understand that sometimes drastic times call for drastic measures." He slipped his hand into the pockets of his trousers, lifting at least three wallets from the brown folds. He chuckled at the shocked looks of Stan, Kyle and Kenny. "Two, I did steal from my mom."

"Jesus, Cartman," breathed a wide-eyed Kyle. "How many men did your mom have to sleep with to get that kind of cash?"

Stan and Kenny fell about laughing, while Cartman responded in the only way he knew how. "Shut up, you fuckin' Jew! At least mah mom actually gets some." He snickered. "I can't imagine somebody desperate enough to do your mom…"

For what seemed like the millionth time, Stan was forced to act as peacemaker. "Cartman, shut up. Kyle, calm down. Kenny, this isn't funny." He pinched the bridge of his nose in an annoyed fashion. "The point is not to argue, right? It's to do as much as we can in the time we have left, and if you're going to bitch at each other, we're just wasting time." He gazed at the darkening sky. "Now come on, before our parents realise we're missing…"

He felt a green-gloved hand on his shoulder. "You're right, dude. We should get going," Kyle sighed deeply. "If my mom notices I'm not back soon, she'll send out a search party, and then we can never get away."

"Mph Mppph," agreed Kenny.

Cartman cleared his throat, quickly establishing himself again as "the leader" of the troupe. "Shall we get going then, gentlemen?"

They each mounted their bikes, allowing themselves what they believed to be their last look at their hometown. The three skinnier boys couldn't help but feel a sense of regret at their leaving, after all they would be leaving behind their families, and practically everyone they cared about, except each other of course. However they convinced themselves that this was the right thing to do. After all, hadn't one of those that Kyle was leaving behind told them that this _was _the right thing to do?

"_Believe me, Kyle, if you don't do as much as you can before you can't do it anymore… wheth'r it's death, or ol' age or summat! Make sure you make the most of life!"_

His dad would understand. He knew it.

"You… gahs… I'm seriously… slow down…"

Kyle rolled his eyes. As fun as this undoubtedly would be, he still had the fatass to put up with.

* * *

"Gerald? Gerald!"

The snoozing man felt a harsh shaking throughout his body. Was he in an earthquake? He was sure he recognised the voice that was calling him, however he prayed for it to stop; every syllable made his brain ache.

"Lea' me…'lone…" he muttered.

"Gerald! Wake up!"

He jumped in his chair as freezing cold water cascaded down his back. Gerald looked up, water dripping down his face to get a view of his overbearing wife holding what looked like a small bucket.

"Better, Gerald?" she said, with a hint of irony.

He groaned and lay his head back down on his crossed arms. "Yes, dear."

"Honestly, Gerald. Passed out on the table… I didn't know what to think," Sheila muttered as she busied herself by putting away the groceries. "Of course, that was before I noticed the beer. You'll be cutting down on that, I hope…"

"Mmmhmmm." Gerald began using a technique that he had picked up over the years he had been married. As much as he loved his wife, at times she could still scare the living bejesus out of him, and it was still possibly the better option to just agree with everything that she said. Not that he took any notice; he always switched off when Sheila went off on one of her rants, but a few carefully placed "Mmmhmmm"s always seemed to placate her.

"What Kyle must have thought when he got home from school, I don't know…" She stopped suddenly. "Gerald? Where is Kyle?"

"Mmmhmmm."

"Gerald! Are you even listening to me?"

The Jewish man gulped and tried to backtrack. "Uhh… Kyle? I… I think he's out playing with his friends." He was sure he had seen him hanging out with his little friend Stan earlier…

"But at this hour?" Sheila gestured towards the window. "It's getting dark now… and I've always told him…" She pursed her lips in consideration. "He'll probably be at the Marshes, won't he? He's a smart boy, he'll know…"

Gerald shook his head. He didn't know why she worked herself up over Kyle. As she had said herself, he was a smart kid, and could look after himself. But as he lay his throbbing head back down onto the table, he couldn't help but suddenly remember when exactly he saw Kyle with his friend Stan, and what he had said.

This was a "holy fucking shit with balls on" moment.

* * *

**Hmmm… not a particularly humourous chapter. But one thing that always bugs me, is that in certain fics, the parents are completely ignored. And I personally find the boy's parents hysterically funny. Especially Randy and Gerald. :D**

**Plus, this sort of marks the beginning of the boys' "epic adventure" thing. Muahahaha, I'm looking forward to writing the next few chapters.**

**So yes, I am now down by yet ANOTHER exam, Hoorah! And trying to find time to write this up in between revision periods.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Gari.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Etruscan Philosophy**

"Mpphh Phmmm Mpphhh Mphh?"

Stan studied the map. They had been riding for about an hour now and had stopped by the side of the road, partially because Cartman's flabby face was covered in sweat and he wasn't used to this sort of exercise, and also because Kenny had been knocked off his bike by a car. They dragged his limp and broken body to the sidewalk, and waited for him to revive. They hadn't had to wait long, as barely ten minutes after the rats had finished with him, Kenny had awoken, before snapping the fractured bones back into place and inquiring as to where they were.

"Uhhh… I think we're just past North Park."

"Fort Collins?"

"No, not that far."

Kyle sighed and leant his chin on his knees. "What are we supposed to do next anyway?"

"Err… Hang on a minute…" Cartman perused through his back pack, shoving aside the mound upon mounds of Cheesy Poofs and Snacky Cakes he had so lovingly packed before pulling out his carefully folded list. He snickered as he read the next thing he had written down… _This is going to be awesome, _he thought to himself.

"Here Stan, give us the map a second," the fat boy ordered. _There has to be one nearby, there just has to… _He searched, his large fingers passing over every square centimetre, until he spotted the very words he had been looking for.

"Well, Kahl… Stan, Kinny…" He cleared his throat loudly and nodded to each in turn, hoping to glean their attention. "We have our destination."

It was safe to say that none of the three felt safe in the presence of the psychopathic grin across Cartman's face at that point.

* * *

Randy Marsh sat on the sofa, a beer clutched in his hand, and The Most Gruesome Football Accidents blaring on the TV. Something was up though, and he had checked for all the usual problems; a lost remote, something sharp he was sitting on, Sparky humping his leg… and yet all seemed in order. Except…

The space on the sofa next to him was empty. He mentally clapped a hand to his head; Stan loved this show, and it was unlike him to be up in his room or something at this time.

"Staaaan! STAAAAAN!" He yelled, not bothering to get up from his seat; currently, a slow motion replay of a multiple leg fracture was showing, and he felt obliged to watch. Just so he could explain it to Stan when he hauled his ass down the stairs.

"Hey, Staaan! Hurry up!" His wife, Sharon walked into the den at that point, obviously annoyed at his hollering.

"Damn it, Randy! Stan's not home!"

He spluttered slightly at this; it was so unlike Stan. "Well, where is he then?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "He's probably over at the Broflovski's."

"Hmph," Randy grunted. "So I'm not good enough to watch TV with anymore, is that it?"

Sharon displayed the similar trait to her son, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Honestly, Randy, don't get overdramatic about it. You can watch TV with him some other time."

"Hmph," he repeated rudely, before taking another slurp of his beer, still frowning. Sharon merely shook her head and went back to the kitchen, finishing off the dinner she was serving up. As annoying as her husband was, he had a point; where on earth was Stan? It wasn't at all like him to miss the beloved "TV Watching Time" with Randy; heck, football and TV were practically the only two things that they connected over these days. It was no secret that Stan may have been slightly ashamed of some of the things his father had done in the past, but the kid deserved some credit for trying to have some form of father/son relationship.

It was halfway through her musings that the phone chirruped on the side. She deftly pushed the chicken breast she was preparing and after wiping her greasy fingers she picked it up, with a slight hint of relief at the broad Brooklyn accent coursing down the earpiece.

"Hello, Sharon!"

Of course, it was as she predicted; Stan must have been over at the Broflovski's all the time and this was Sheila come to tell her he was on his way back. Sharon Marsh almost kicked herself for worrying too much.

"Sharon, forgive me if I'm interrupting anything, but this is an important matter. You don't happen to know where my Kyle is, do you?"

The brown haired woman's heart suddenly stopped. If she didn't know where her own son was then she couldn't…

"Wha-what do you mean?" she stuttered. "Isn't Stan over with you?"

"No!" She noticed that the voice down the line was halfway to converting from mildly questioning to one of hysterical concern. "I thought the boys would be over at yours but… you have no idea where they could be?"

Sharon tried desperately to calm down, and remove the images of the boys outside on their own at this time of night. Admittedly, it may not have been that late, but they were only nine years old and out in the dark. Why had she let herself assume?

"They couldn't be over at the McKormick's or the Cartman's, could they?" she asked, half knowing what the answer would be.

"Well, they rarely stay there; I know that Kyle doesn't exactly get along with Eric and the McKormicks are… well…"

Sharon knew that Sheila didn't have to finish her sentence; it was rare that either Stan or Kyle spent too much time outside each other's houses. But… (and a sudden thought hit her)… what if Eric and Kenny were missing too?

"Right…" she said as calmly as she could. "Before we do anything, we should call the other boys' parents…"

* * *

"Dude… I seriously hope you're joking."

Stan, Kyle and Kenny's eyes were wide open at what Cartman was pointing to on the map. He, meanwhile, still had that terrifyingly happy grin from ear to ear, and shook his head.

"Ah, my dear Jew, I thought you would have learnt that I don't joke about this sort of thing, and besides…"

"But a tattoo!?" It was evident that Stan had certain fears regarding it, and put his hand over his arm, as if he was having one inked at that very moment.

Cartman sighed, trying to sound like the voice of reason. "Didn't you say that your Dad wanted one too, Kahl? And you've gotta have one while you're young, otherwise you're too pruney to get one done."

Both Stan and Kyle looked apprehensive, but Kenny promptly pulled up his parka top.

"Mpha Pha!" he said in "Ta-Dah!" fashion. It seemed, that hidden under the folds of his parka, was a large chest tattoo. An eagle seemed to glare at them from Kenny's inked torso.

"DUDE!" Stan and Kyle gawped, their eyes wide. "When did you get that?"

Kenny shrugged. "Mphh Phhmmm."

"Did it hurt?" said a slightly quavering Stan.

Kenny laughed. He was used to pain of the highest levels, being subjected to some excruciating forms of death, and here Stan was looking queasy at the prospect of a few needles. Kenny would have gladly gone through a whole body tattoo compared to say… having to go through blowing up as a result of antacid tablets and water. Ouch.

Cartman, however, rubbed his hands in glee. "See, you gahs? Kinny got one, so it can't be all bad."

Stan still looked uneasy. "But, dude… needles…"

"Look, Stan, let's say you can either have it done professionally at Fort Collins, or I will do it myself."

Needless to say, everyone agreed to have it done professionally.

* * *

**When am I going to get to the action and not just leading up to it, eh? Still, it will get there, I promise.**

**And I'm sorry it took so long to merely write this. It sucks when you can't get to a computer.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading!**

**Gari.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Etruscan Philosophy**

"Dude, I'm gonna throw up."

Kyle had to agree, Stan looked incredibly pale, and it had to be down to the needle that the huge, muscled man was clutching. What exactly they were doing in a Tattoo parlour, he couldn't fathom… no scratch that, he could. One word, beginning with Cart, and ending with Man, who was currently trying to stop laughing at Stan's shaking form.

"Be a man, Stan," he giggled, while slapping his back. He looked up to the beefy man behind the counter, and pulled out the obviously fake IDs that he had had printed himself, along with his money. Kyle could see at once that the man had no interest in fake IDs, he was mesmerised by the money alone. Damn, he thought to himself, if the guy had turned us away, we wouldn't have to puss out. Not that any of them were going to puss out, least of all Kyle himself; Cartman obviously would have thought them weak if they didn't go through with it, and Kyle hated to be thought of as weak, especially by Cartman.

"Sir, me and my two friends would like a tattoo each," he lingered over his words, trying to sound as adult as possible. "I will have the swastika, mah Jew friend here will have some Jewish symbol, and the little bitch here will have…" he grinned widely "… the full back tattoo, the John Elway one."

"What!" yelped Stan.

"Who says you get to choose, fatass?" Kyle snarled angrily.

"Full… back…. Tattoo…?" The black haired boy let out a whimper that was very unusual for him.

Cartman tried his best to sound innocent. "I thought Stan liked John Elway, and you are a Jew so…"

"Well, then you should have an ass tattooed on yourself seeing as that takes up about half your entire body!"

"BIG BONES, YOU SKINNY-ASS JEWFACE DICKHOLE!"

Stan clutched his nose again. "Jesus Christ, if this is living, I'd much rather be dead."

"Mpphhh mpphhhhahahaha!"

"Shut up, Kenny."

* * *

Sharon had to admit it, she hated being in the same room as an agitated Sheila Broflovski, who was currently pacing the room in a frenzy, and thoroughly annoying the hell out of the other occupants of the said room. Even Officer Barbrady, who had come round to take the details, had excused himself quickly. Of course, it could have just been his inefficiency, but Sharon had seen the look in his eyes as he had been hassled by the red-haired woman; no doubt his quick escape had been just that, an escape from her. Plus, she was doing absolutely no good for the morale of the other parents currently in her home. As if not knowing where her son was at that exact moment was bad enough, Sharon doubted that she could take much more of the mad behaviour. Incidentally, she had been making hints to Gerald across the room to attempt to calm his wife down, and the room gave a collective sigh of relief as he finally took his wife in his arms.

"Oh God, Gerald! Where could he have gone? Why would he do this? I swear, if anything's happened to him…"

"Sheila, he'll be perfectly fine… they all will," Gerald said pointedly, giving a slight nod to the other parents. Randy simply sat back, sipping another beer and trying to keep his mind on something gory on the TV, while the McKormicks mulled in the background, not sure what to do with themselves in such a fancy home. Mrs Cartman also didn't seem too phased by the idea of a missing son, wondering every now and then if her "poopsiekins" was getting hungry yet.

It was at times like these that Sharon felt very proud of her sanity.

* * *

"Mmmmmpppphhhhmmp mmppphh hmmmphh."

"No it's not, Kinny! Shut the fuck up!"

Rolling the bandage back up over the sore patch of skin, Cartman huffed in annoyance. Jesus, what was taking Stan and Kyle so long? He had finished in barely any time, and (in his opinion) it looked pretty fucking sweet. He gave a slight smile; even the feeling that his skin had been torn at with meathooks would be worth the look on the Jew's face every time he rolled up his sleeves from now on. He was just considering "accidentally" rolling up his sleeve around Kyle's mom, when the short redhead emerged from another room, with a similar pained expression to Cartman.

"How'd it go, Jew?"

"Fine, fatass," Kyle sighed, sitting down on the bench by the other boys. He scowled at Cartman. "Why did you have to tell them I wanted a Jewish symbol? I couldn't think of anything else so they just said I'd have to go along with…" he rolled up his sleeve "…this!"

Both Cartman and Kenny peered to Kyle's bicep. Imprinted on it, was a perfectly formed menorah.

"A menorah!" cackled Cartman. "Oh man, I thought they'd do that gay little star or something, but this!" He sniggered again into his hands, earning a reproachful glare and a slap from Kyle. "Ouch! That was on mah tattoo, you fucking Jew!"

"Well lets see it then."

"Nuh, uh. It, like, hurt so much… and I was so brave… and they said I should keep it covered so it doesn't get infected…"

"SHOW ME THE FUCKING TATTOO!"

Cartman proudly rolled up his sleeve.

"That's it?"

Kyle was seething; Cartman's inked swastika had to be the size of a fingernail at most. Cartman however, was oblivious to Kyle's rage. "It's kewl, huh?"

Before Kyle could give an answer to this infuriating question, the door on the end opened and out ran Stan, shrieking madly. "NO MORE! GODDAMNIT, NO MORE!!"

He ran straight past the three boys and through the door at incredible speed. Kyle immediately took off from his space on the bench, running as fast as his legs could carry him, before Kenny followed.

Unsurprisingly, Cartman was less sympathetic, and spent the next five minutes trying to stop himself from laughing.

* * *

"Oh, dude…. Oh dude…"

Kyle and Kenny found Stan lying shirtless on the snow, groaning with relief. "Oh, God… guys, never ever let me rip on snow again. This is amazing…"

Kenny had covered his mouth with a gloved hand, determined to stifle his guffaws; he may not be as sympathetic to Stan's plight as Kyle was, but he was not so evil as Cartman to let Stan see that he found his suffering funny.

"So go on," said Kyle. "Get up and let's see it."

Stan sighed, and lifted himself upwards. "Just don't touch it, dude. It feels like my skin's been torn off."

"Mpphha phhhhmmm pmmm?"

"No, Kenny, I have never really had my skin torn off before."

"Mphhhh phmmmm."

"Yes, we know you have. We were there," said Stan, clearly annoyed, before turning around.

Both Kyle and Kenny gasped, although the latter's was more muffled. Where Stan's back had previously been, was now a line drawing of John Elway surrounded by clearly sore patches, and accentuated with the redness that comes with lying shirtless in the freezing snow.

"Oh, dude…" said Kyle, feeling rather nauseous.

"I know," groaned Stan. "I'm just glad I can't see it; if it looks as bad as it feels, I'd throw up."

It was at this point that Cartman had finally got over his laughing fit, and managed to puff and pant his way over to where the three were stood. One look at Stan's back sent him cackling again.

"Oh man! Honestly! You gahs are seriously… just…. bwahahhahhhhaaaa!"

"Shut up, fatass!"

"We've got the Jew with a menorah, and the needle-fearing pussy with…" the rest of his sentence was drowned out by hysterical giggles.

"I hate you so much."

"I know you do, Jew."

* * *

**Finally! I may actually be back on track with my chaptered fics!**

**Not much to say now, except thanks for reading!**

**Gari**


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